


Of Songs and Pretty Things

by sansss_starkk



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aemon not Aegon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Book and Show, Cousins, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff, Out of Character, Political Jon, R Plus L Equals J, Romance, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-07-24 20:52:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16182983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansss_starkk/pseuds/sansss_starkk
Summary: "My head was full of songs, and when we went South I did not think of you, hardly at all, not until everything started to fall apart did I wish for you." Jon seemed transfixed by her words. "And when Theon and I escaped all I could think of was you and when I wasn't thinking of the fear or the cold I imagined what it would be like to see you again. I feared you would turn me away." Jon shook his head."Never."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes at the end!

The world was quiet in the Godswood. A blanket of snow lay across Winterfell and as far as Sansa could see. The world looked as if it had come right out of a song. But life was not a song, and it hadn't been for a very long time.

She sighed and her warm breath misted into the air in front of her as moments of the past few weeks came to mind, the biggest of all when Jon returned home.

Bran had requested to speak to Jon privately, as well as Jon's friend Sam. Arya had looked to Sansa questioningly, but Sansa had shaken her head. Who knew that what Bran would reveal in that room would change everything even more.

Sansa had been sitting in her chambers when she heard a few shouts, doors slamming, and some shouting again. She got up curious and went to her window to look out and found a shadow walking out into the Godswood. She knew it was Jon by the way the shadow was walking and the cloak he had around his shoulders, the very one Sansa had gifted him all those moons ago. She thought about going down to speak with him to find out what had happened, but decided instead to visit Bran's room.

Once entering, she found her sister already sitting on the edge of Bran's bed, staring into the fire, her face unreadable.

"What's happened?" the air in the room was thick, making Sansa's gut roll in fear.

It was Sam that spoke. "We've just told Jon something about- about his mother…" Sansa breathed in. Visions of a faceless dark haired and highborn beauty flashed through her mind. Who was the mysterious woman who had made her father forget his honor and his vows to her lady mother.

"And?" she didn't really want to ask. It was a dark stain on her fathers memory that she did not like to think of, but if it was causing such distress, she should know.

"Jon's mother wasn't some whore from a brothel, or some lowborn girl, she was a noble lady of a great house, our house." Bran's eyes left the fire and landed on Sansa. Her stomach clenched, her mind reeling. 

"What are you saying? Our father isn't-"

"Jon's father? No, his father was actually Rhaegar Targaryen, and his mother, your Aunt Lyanna." Sam answered. Sansa's breath slowed, and she reached out a hand. Sam sat up quickly and helped her have a seat on the bed near Arya. She looked to her sister then, whose eyes were on hers, shining with unshed tears. She looked both looked like the sister Sansa remembered from their youth, and nothing like her at the same time.

"How do you know this?" she looked to her brother who was staring back into the fire. He didn't have to answer, and he seemed to know that he didn't, because he knew Sansa already knew. Whoever this boy was who had come back from the wall was more than the boy who had crossed it so long ago. He could see things, things that were beautiful and terrible, that had happened and had not yet come to be. It was strange, fascinating, and terrifying all at once. Her eyes caught movement then, her sister wiping her eyes discreetly before standing.

"I'm going to bed." Sansa wanted to reach out and stop her, wanting to comfort her sister, but of what, she wasn't sure. Maybe to tell her this news didn't mean anything, that Jon was still their brother, and would always be, but that didn't seem right to say, especially not coming from her. Though they were close now in a way, and had a betterr relationship, it had not always been. Jon had always been Arya's brother however, but not Sansa's. So she let her go.

For weeks after the news had rolled around in Sansa's brain, and for weeks she attempted to talk to Jon about it, but couldn't find it in her to bring it up. When they spoke, it was about preparations for the long night, battle strategies, and things that were not personal by any means. She knew Arya and Jon had spoken about it, and whatever they had said seemed to make things right between them.

"How did you bring up the uh-- the news with Jon? What did you say?" Sansa had asked one evening when Arya was in her room sharpening her blades while Sansa mended her sister's cloak. Arya shrugged.

"Just that it didn't mean anything to me, he would always be my brother." she caught Sansa's eyes then and something passed between them, and then the moment was gone. Sansa looked down and winced. She had pricked her finger. Her blood pooling above the skin. She wanted to speak to Jon, but saying that he would always be her brother no matter what didn't feel like the right thing to say.

So now here she was, thinking again of what she could finally say to him. He was a man grown, had seen terrible things, done violent things, what sort of comfort could she bring him that he had not already found himself. It had been weeks since they had all found out after all, and Sansa had this keen sense that he didn't want to talk about it to her at all. Whenever they did speak, it was only when it was required. He never pulled her away as he did with Arya, Bran, and Sam. He even spent alone time with one Dragon Queen as well, but Sansa had an idea of what that was about, and it burned her with some unknowable emotion. It seemed he had time for everyone else, except her. The girl he had taken back Winterfell with, the girl who had cried into his shoulder at Castle Black, the girl who had finally found home in his arms again. 

It felt like a slight against her, like when they were children and Jon would skulk away with her siblings while she was left behind, not dirty enough nor strong enough to play with them anymore. 

No, she would not let this pass any longer, it had gone on long enough. With that Sansa gathered her skirts and marched back to the castle.

 

Her mind was working frantically with all the things she meant to tell Jon on her way to his chambers that when she rounded the corner she bumped heavily into a strong solid mass whose arms reached out to grab her when she stumbled back. Her eyes focused and they found Jon's, concern etched deeply in them.

"Sansa," his voice was deep and sounded so much like fathers for a second, her heart hammered within, "are you alright?" she nodded quickly and looked down.

"Yes, yes I'm okay." he let go then and dipped his head minutely in acknowledgment before his eyes squinted curiously.

"Why are you wandering around so late?" Sansa sighed, deciding to be honest and to trust him, as he had said they should do.

"I was looking for you." his eyebrows rose and his eyes widened, clearly not expecting that reply.

"For me?" he questioned.

"Yes, I- We… I haven't spoken to you about… about everything." she said lamely, her words becoming confused and not at all the speech she had had in mind.

Jon's face seemed to close off any openness he had had a moment ago, his eyes looking away from hers.

"It's alright, there's nothing to discuss." Sansa reached out her hand to grab his arm. He looked down at it before looking back at her.

"There is Jon, there's so much we have to talk about. You have a legitimate claim to the Iron Throne- and I know you don't want it," she pressed for she could see he was about to interrupt, "but like you've said before, we have so many enemies now, and if they found out about this, I don't know what would happen." but she did know. So many horrible things could happen if this information leaked to the wrong people. They already had enough to deal with at the moment, but it was important for Jon to know he had her on his side in anyway he needed her. Advisor, friend…. sister. 

He sighed, "I know, but now's no time to get into it, we're leaving in a few days to meet the Walkers before they reach Winterfell. This threat cannot be ignored any longer." Sansa nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. Foolish girl as always, she knew this matter was of the utmost importance to Jon, to the realm, anything else simply did not matter. When would she learn?

"Of course yes, I understand." They stood a moment longer and the words burned in her throat while something seemed to pass over Jon's face, as if he wanted to say something as well. She forced herself to speak. "It's just, if something happens, I needed you to know, to know that when you come home, and you will come home," she said fiercely, with as much conviction as she could to convey just how much she wanted him to come back, "that whatever path you choose to take you have me by your side. All of me." the words didn't come out as she had wanted. The emotion behind them easily to mistake as something other than familial affection and she could tell Jon heard it as well. Had she meant it that way? She must've because her face was burning now, but she didn't know how to correct herself.

"Do you mean that?" Jon finally spoke, his voice low and quiet and so vulnerable. Sansa grabbed his other arm and drew him closer, pleading him with her eyes to believe her.

"Yes. We have been through so much together. We would not be here without you, and I will be here for you as- as an advisor, or, or your friend, your sister. Always." there she had gotten the words out, and it left a funny taste in her mouth, for the word 'sister' did not feel like the right word, but what else could she say? He had been her brother before, and he would be her brother now as he always had been, no matter who his father was.

Jon's eyes scanned her face completely, and then they seemed to land on her lips. He'd done that before, at Castle Black, on the ramparts of Winterfell as the snow fell gently around them, and just like before, her heart quickened, her palms became sweaty, and her mind began to do funny things. She noticed his lips as well then and she unconsciously rolled hers between her teeth, wetting them. The action seemed to draw Jon in closer. The hand of the arm she was gripping came up to rest on her cheek, above her ear, his eyes boring into hers.

"What if I don't want to be your brother?" he whispered, his deep northern accent was like a balm to her soul and before she could question anything about what he'd said she closed her eyes, drunk on his scent, his breath, and met his lips in the dark. 

This. This is the kiss she'd heard about in songs where everything seemed to fall away and all that was left was this. She deepened their kiss as she pushed herself closer, her arms wrapping themselves under his arms while his other hand came to grip the other side of her face. It was a sweet kiss. 

When they parted, their breath mixing between them as Jon rested his forehead against hers, his eyes shut tight.

"I'm sorry Sansa- I-" but she caught his lips again with her own and deepened it, moving her mouth against his, brushing his lips with her tongue until his came out to meet hers. Their breathing became heavy and suddenly Sansa was backed against the wall, with Jon leaning into her. He parted from her again, this time his eyes staying open.

As if finally realizing what had happened Jon pushed himself away with a suddenness that left Sansa feeling cold and bereft. No, she wanted to say, but nothing came out.

"Sansa." her name came out sounding broken, Jon's voice filled with some sort of anguish. "I didn't mean to-" he walked away further. "I'm really-" he bumped into a standing candelabra and nearly knocked the whole thing over before catching it and setting it right. It would have been funny had Sansa not been feeling extremely mortified about what had just happened. 

Without a backward glance, Jon righted the candelabra and turned, on to where he was going before Sansa had found him. Whereas Jon couldn't leave fast enough, Sansa took her time making her way to her chambers.

After closing and barring the door, she had no wish to be disturbed right now, she sat by the hearth and something bubbled up from within her. Her eyes began to sting with tears wanting to be set free, but she wouldn't let them fall. So much had happened to her in and out of these walls and despite it all she felt again like a stupid little girl who never learns.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was near him now, she could see every gorgeous eyelash, see into his dark eyes. His breath mingled in the air between them and he smelled sweet, as if he'd had a lemon cake or two.

On the eve of Jon and the armies departure, Sansa found herself hiding in her chambers. Even out of the way, the sounds from the makeshift feast below could be heard in her room. She had joined the festivities for a time, but then it became unbearable when the Dragon Queen had taken Jon onto the floor for a dance. It was a lively tune, and there wasn't much closeness between them, but it still was not enjoyable for Sansa to watch, especially with these new confusing feelings she had towards her brother-cousin. Sansa may have been into her cups to try and ignore them for a while. She had mostly stayed to watch Arya dancing around with the man from the forge since it was such an unlikely sight, but to see the light in her eyes and the smile on her sisters face was worth the few more minutes of torture as she saw Jon spin around the silver haired beauty from the corner of her eye. The moment Sansa left was right after they began to play The Winter Maid. It was a sad and slow melody that Sansa recognized instantly. It was a song she sang to herself many times when Ramsey had her locked in her room. She hadn't thought of it in a long time and as it started the memories began and she couldn't bear to watch the Queen rest her head on Jon's shoulder to a song that reminded her of such pain.

Sansa had risen quite abruptly and with out grace that many heads turned to see her leave the hall, including Jon's. Now that she was safely in her chambers she had calmed, but her mind was racing still. The nightmares had been unavoidable and she had taken to a sleeping draught mixed with water to rest most nights, sometimes she tempted to pour the whole thing and have done with it, but that wasn't her. She did not go through everything she had to end it right when she was happiest.

But was she happy?

She had much of everything she had dreamed of when she was locked away in the south, then in the mountains, and in her own home. Now that she was truly home with her family again, what more could she want? The memory of Jon's face so close to hers swam to the forefront of her mind and she felt the want within her. She had thought that part of her had died after all the scars Ramsey had left her, both internal and external. How could she even fathom having these feelings, and towards her own brother for that matter. She knew Ramsey had ruined her, worse than anyone else, but this was too much. 

Logically, she knew Jon had never been her brother, even when she thought he was by blood, he wasn't to her really, at least not the way he was towards her true siblings. It wasn't just because he was a bastard either, they just had nothing in common, that's what Sansa had believed at one point. She had been a proper little lady who would be married off to a high lord and run her own castle and have her own little true born children. Her brother Robb would be Lord of Winterfell, another highborn girl married to him. Arya would also do her duty and get married, loathe though she was to such a prospect, Sansa had believed she would follow what was asked of her, and her brothers would be Knights, Robb's bannermen. Then there was Jon. He would be no lord, hold no lands, or keeps. Maybe father could have made him a decent match with someone, but it had never crossed Sansa's mind truly. 

Petyrs words came to her then, of Jon and Daenerys marrying, and her stomach churned at the thought. She did not trust the silver haired queen. Though she was beautiful, even more so than Petyr had said she would be, there was a darkness within her than she sensed. Arya had shared similar thoughts as well. Besides that, she was ethereal, foreign, and regal. She knew the Northmen did not trust her either, she was a Targaryen after all, and the North remembered.

Sansa leaned further into her chair by the fire and sighed deeply, her mind racing with so many thoughts, but the one she kept going back to was Jon and their kiss.

She had felt so guilty after. What would her father think, her mother, her living siblings. They would be disgusted with her. They would tell her she was sick, for who in their right mind would want to kiss their brother as she had. She was no Targaryen, or Lannister for that matter. 

But it is different, she had told herself over and over to assuage her feelings. Jon was more than her brother. He had been her confidant, her protector. Along their way he had somehow morphed into the person she always imagined to take care of her. How ironic.

He obviously didn't share any of the same feelings she had. He had the Dragon Queen after all, that much was obvious.

Lost in her musings, she jumped when a knock came at her door. She cleared her throat and bid them enter. 

Her heart seemed to jump into her throat when she saw it was Jon. 

"Sorry to disturb you, I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You left so suddenly." Sansa sat up straighter, bringing up her walls, masking her face of any emotions she had been feeling, turning to steel.

"I am well. How is the feast?" Jon scanned her face, and Sansa knew he didn't believe her, but he walked further into the room just the same. Slowly, cautiously, as if waiting for her to bark at him to leave.

"It's winding down I suppose." Sansa nodded, it was quieter now, she noted.

"It's late." she said turning away from him when she couldn't stand to look at his face anymore. She wished him to leave. She wished him to stay.

"Yes, goodnight Sansa." he turned to leave.

"Jon." she cursed herself for not keeping quiet. He stopped and turned. She looked back to him, her hands shaking, what was she doing. She stood from her chair and walked past him, closing her door. Was it the ale that had given her such bravery? Or was it recklessness. "I need to ask you something." he nodded, visibly swallowing.

"The other night, in the corridor, we never spoke of it." Jon dipped his head.

"I know. I should have apologized sooner, it was terrible-" Sansa raised her brows.

"Kissing me was terrible?" she teased, her heart breaking a little all the same.

"What? No, of course not, that was- you were so… I only meant that it was not honorable of me to- we are family-" he stumbled through his words, his accent thick again like it was that night. 

"You said you wished to not be." the words came out softly, almost a whisper. So open. When had her steel melted away?

Jon breathed out heavily and shut his eyes, shaking his head. "It was a moment of madness, and I truly regret forcing myself on you in such a way-" Sansa reached out for him. She was always the one reaching for him.

His eyes finally met hers and something in them softened. "I kissed you." she emphasized. What was wrong with her? He clearly was ashamed and regretted what had happened. She was no better than Ramsey for forcing him to relive what had transpired, but he was leaving tomorrow, and she had to know, of what though, she wasn't sure.

"Aye, and I kissed you back." he relented. Sansa licked her lips, steeling herself. She hoped she still had enough ale in her system to keep speaking.

"You never were my brother." the words came out almost cold, though she hadn't meant them to sound that way. Jon lowered his head, his eyes downcast. "We didn't play together the way we did with the others. We didn't love each other the same." Jon looked back to her, eyes searching. "I didn't hate you or wish you gone, but I felt bad for my mother when I realized what being a bastard meant, so I distanced myself more from you." she cleared her throat, her shame at being such a terrible child making her emotional. "My head was full of songs, and when we went south I did not think of you, hardly at all, not until everything started to fall apart did I wish for you." Jon seemed transfixed by her words. "And when Theon and I escaped all I could think of was you and when I wasn't thinking of the fear or the cold I imagined what it would be like to see you again. I feared you would turn me away." Jon shook his head.

"Never." Sansa moved closer at his admission.

"And then I saw you, and you looked so much like father I wanted to weep." her eyes began to feel wet, her voice thick with emotion. "You held me in the middle of that courtyard and I felt safe. For the first time in years I let go of all the terror and horrors and felt like I was home." the memory of that moment burned bright in her mind, almost as if she had gone back in time. "And now you're leaving tomorrow and I-" her voice cracked. "I'm just so confused. I love you Jon." Jon stood straighter, throat working, eyes roaming her face. "Not as a sister should love a brother either, and I feel so afraid and sick, and I'm so sorry to feel like this, but you said it too, you said that you did not want to be my brother and it has been eating away at me and I need to know what you meant and I'm sorry for being so selfish-" Jon grabbed her face in his hands and she quieted finally, her lip trembling.

"You are not sick, nor selfish. I'm sorry for my part in making you feel any of this. I have never been good with words." he meant to pull his hands away but Sansa placed her own over his keep him in place. "I do not feel for you like I do for Arya, or Bran. What I feel is- there are no- I cannot even begin to describe. It's too much, I feel too much for you and I myself felt something was wrong with me. Then Bran revealed what he did and after the anger and frustration of it all, it made sense. Targaryens wed and bedded their family for centuries, it must be in their blood, my blood, and that is why I felt the way I had been." Sansa felt herself thrumming with energy and warmth and she wanted to be so much closer to him as he spoke. She wanted to feel his body against hers again.

“You are still Stark, Jon.” His lip quirked slightly at her words. "What of Daenerys?" Jon pulled away then and Sansa let him go this time. Stupid. Why had she brought her up?

Jon walked towards the window near the bed and looked out into the night. 

"I should have known Ned Stark was not my father, I am nowhere near as honorable as he." Sansa frowned.

"What do you mean?" he turned back to her.

"I know you are upset with me since I pledged the North to Daenerys for her to aid in our cause against the White Walkers. It was not mine to give-" Sansa began to interrupt, "but she has dragons, fire to fight the ice. Would that I could take them on my own, but they listen to only her command, and she would not come without some promise and even then it wasn't enough." Sansa shook her head. 

"I don't understand. What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I have done what I've had to, for the good of the realm." his jaw worked, waiting for Sansa's response. She understood then what he was saying. He had falsely pledged himself and his home to the Dragon Queen in order to save them all. 

"I do not love her." he admitted.

"But you bedded her." Sansa stated, knowing the truth.

"Aye, I have." 

"You've done something like this before, you told me so, with the Wilding girl, Ygritte?" Jon nodded. "And you loved her." Jon's jaw clenched as he looked down.

"Aye, I did." Sansa walked closer, turning over everything he had said since he walked in to her chambers. He cared for her, more than he should, as she did. He had given up his honor to protect the realm, their family, herself, and here he stood, ashamed and feeling unworthy. It angered her that he felt so.

She was near him now, she could see every gorgeous eyelash, see into his dark eyes. His breath mingled in the air between them and he smelled sweet, as if he'd had a lemon cake or two.

"You have put your family and duty to the realm, our home, over your honor and I can not fault you for that, nor should anyone. Sometimes, stories have to be told and lived out for the greater good, Jon, I am more aware of that than most, believe me. It does not anger me what you've done." Jon's lips parted, Sansa's eyes catching the movement. "You are telling me true, that you do not care for her in the way you cared for your Wilding girl?" Jon nodded.

"I do not." he answered, voice gruff and also gentle. She believed him. She did not know how she knew, but he would not lie to her, not about this.

"Do you care for me the way you did her?" Jon reached forward, his hand on her cheek warm and rough from fighting. 

"No." Sansa's eyes shot up to his, hurt swimming in her belly. "I care for you far more." she breathed out in relief just as their lips met again for their second kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her mind was drunk, not on any ale she had had at the feast, but on Jon, purely Jon. His kisses, his hands, his scent, the noises he was making were more potent than any drink she'd ever consumed.

Sansa knew that what was happening should feel wrong. From Jon's hands traveling along her body, slowly undressing her, to her own hands shakily removing his cloak and tunic, it was supposed to feel wrong. But it didn't. Not at all.

She could blame it on the drinks she had consumed earlier in the evening, but it was something more than that. More desperate. More demanding. It was a want within her that she had never experienced before and it had completely taken over all her senses.

Her mind was drunk, not on any ale she had had at the feast, but on Jon, purely Jon. His kisses, his hands, his scent, the noises he was making were more potent than any drink she'd ever consumed. As he laid her down on the soft furs of her bed, he kept himself above her, his arms holding him up, she did not care for that, and pulled him so his full weight was upon her. He chuckled at her dominance and she blushed red. His laughter quieted, however, when she reached between them with a shaky hand and stroked him through his breeches. He sucked in a breath and attacked her with a fevered kiss.

He pulled away suddenly to unlace his breeches while Sansa hurried to pull off her own small clothes and lift up her shift, the cool air making her shiver.

She saw him then, briefly, and swallowed nervously. She had never seen Ramsey before, always going away somewhere in her mind to pretend what was happening wasn't, and now she couldn't look away. Jon caught her attention, lowering himself to be closer and kissed her cautiously, gently.

"We can stop." he said against her lips, his eyes opening and boring into hers. Her heart burned then, for him, all of him. His beautiful face and body were glorious to her even with the scarring and bruises and wounds. But it was more than lust she felt, it was a love she didn't know she would ever be able to feel. It warmed her from within and if it was possible, she felt as if she were physically glowing. 

"No, I want this, I want you." he smiled softly then, and kissed her. She responded by pulling him closer, her hands on his lower back, her legs opening for him. He reached between them and she felt him at her entrance, and then he was inside her and they were one. She gasped and shut her eyes waiting for pain, waiting for memories to come flooding back to ruin this moment for her, but nothing came. She opened her eyes to see Jon staring at her intently, waiting for her to adjust, waiting for her to say something. She moved beneath him and his eyes fluttered and Sansa moaned, he leaned down again to kiss her lips, her neck, anywhere he could reach and his hips began a sweet rhythm, her insides singing along to each movement in ecstasy. 

 

After, they laid together for a time, Sansa replayed their coupling over and over in her mind, smiling to herself. Jon squeezed her closer to him as her head rested on the crook of his arm. She looked up at him and could barely make out his features. The candles had burnt low or were completely extinguished, and what she could see was from the open window, allowing moonlight into the room from behind her. When her eyes adjusted, she could see a sad smile on his lips. 

"Do you regret it?" his voice low, concern in his words. Sansa shook her head. He relaxed and kissed her forehead. "Good. Neither do I." he said into her hair as he pulled her closer still.

"We are foolish things though. This was dangerous to do with no one knowing your true parentage and your Queen down the hall." Sansa muttered. Doubt was setting in, and though she did not regret what had happened, she knew there would be consequences, there always were.

"Aye, a trait I haven't been able to escape." he replied. Sansa brought her hand up to her mouth and began to chew at her nails.

"I don't think I would have done this if we weren't in such peril. I wouldn't have had the nerve to even kiss you in the first place." Jon breathed in deeply, thinking on her words.

"Is it wrong to say I'm glad of it." she looked up at him surprised, she leaned up to rest on her elbow, the furs pulled over her chest, her hair falling messily around her. Though she felt she looked a fright, Jon looked up at her, his eyes shining with the light of the few candles still burning low in the room. He looked so handsome, she almost forgot what she was going to say.

"You're glad of the world ending? Jon Snow, I knew you were brooding and dark, but this is a bit much." he smiled at her teasing.

"I just meant that it's worth it, for me. If I die, at least I would have known this, I would have known love from a lady as white as winter," he dragged a finger across her cheek, into her hair, "with moonglow in her hair." Sansa blushed deeply, her blood singing.

"That's one of my favorite songs." 

"I remember." he said, smiling fondly. It made her break. This brave, gentle, and strong man would be leaving in a few hours and could possibly never return. It took him a moment to realize she was crying.

"Sansa, my love, please." he brought her to him, holding her tightly.

"I do not want to live in this world without you." she cried into his neck, her admission leaving her before she could reign it in. Jon held her tighter.

"Nor I," he said. "The night before I met Ramsey's army on the field of battle, I went to see the Red Woman after we argued. You'd said you wouldn't go back to him alive, and when you said that I had to make sure that if I fell in battle, she would not bring me back again. I did not want to live if it meant you weren't." Sansa's cries lessened.

"I didn't know that." she said thickly. He stroked her head.

"I love you." the words left his lips and found their way into her heart. She trapped them there, intent on never forgetting the way his voice sounded as he said them. "I've loved you far longer than is proper." Sansa had quieted now, and was only sniffling every so often.

"Me as well. Perhaps since Castle Black." Jon chuckled. "Why're you laughing." 

"Because I've loved you longer still, probably since we were children." Sansa scowled. "How so? I was vile to you." she replied aghast.

"I'm not really sure, I don't think I was ever truly aware of what I was feeling for you. You were this perfect pretty thing, everyone loved and adored you and I did as well, but because I was a bastard, it was not right, and I knew my love for you was different. You were my sister, but not, as you say I was your brother, but not quite. I saw the way Robb was towards you, protective, annoyed, and sometimes indifferent and I tried to emulate that but failed. Your mother caught me staring at you one too many times and complained to father about it. She said I was leering, my bastard blood taking over, or something of the like." Sansa sighed.

"She was never fair to you, I'm sorry for that. Especially now that we know the truth." Jon shook his head. 

"It's in the past." their moment of revelation was coming to an end, Sansa could sense it as Jon began to shift and move away from her eventually sitting up and began to get dressed.

"I should start preparing everyone for departure. We are leaving at first light." Sansa nodded, watching the muscles in his back dance as he pulled on his boots.

"I'll see you in the courtyard, yes?" he sounded unsure which was silly, Sansa would see him off no matter their relationship, it was what was expected, and she would always do her duty, it just meant more now.

"Of course." he leaned over and kissed her softly before leaving her in her chambers alone. 

 

One by one, the party that would be heading straight into the Long Night came to Sansa to say their goodbyes. Arya and Bran were beside her, also doing their duty saying their farewells. It had surprised Sansa when Arya had announced to her that morning she would be staying behind and not going to join the fight.

When it was Jon's turn to speak with her, Sansa's heart swelled at the sight of him. Clad in his amour, he looked just like a Knight from a song. 

"My Lady." his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her. She inclined her head.

"Your Grace." he chuckled looking down before looking back up. "Be safe. You have Brienne to protect you, and…. Ser Jaime," he added reluctantly, still not happy with his presence, no matter his vows to protect his sister and the family that remained to him, but who could blame him after all he had done, "be careful." Sansa nodded, afraid to speak. He leaned in to hug her. It was not unusual, he had done the same to Arya and Bran after all, but they both knew it was more than that. 

"Don't die out there." Sansa whispered brokenly in his ear. For a moment it was just them, in their secret bubble, and then it burst and he was gone, mounting his horse. 

Suddenly a flash of silver caught her eye and there stood the Dragon Queen herself, waiting to give her farewell.

"My Lady, I thank you for your hospitality these past few weeks. I dare say we would not have been as prepared had we forged on to meet the threat in the North instead." Sansa nodded.

"The pleasure is all mine Your Grace." she hoped her words did not sound as cold to the Queen as they did to Sansa's own ears.

"I hope to make it back all in one peace. I'm sure your King would be happy of that as well. This is his home after all. He does so enjoy being with his family." Sansa could hear a hidden meaning in her words, but pretended not to notice.

"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come, Your Grace." she inclined her head, ending their conversation before turning and walking away.

Sansa made her way to the ramparts and watched as Jon's and Daenery's armies left Winterfell. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched the dragons flying away. They seemed no bigger than hummingbirds from this distance, and eventually, she couldn't see them at all.

She continued to look out in the direction Jon had left, praying for his safe return, even though she knew it might be fruitless to do so, but it brought her comfort. When her fingers began to feel numb she decided it was time to go inside, but as she turned, a figure at the other end of the rampart caught her eye and she knew it was Arya. Biting her cheek she ignored her instincts and instead went to speak to her sister. They had come along way since being reunited, but there was still tension between them, one that Sansa hoped would thaw with time.

As she got closer, Sansa could see wetness on his sister's cheeks, her mind reeling at the sight, she hadn't seen her sister cry since they were children. Arya turned to her then, more open and vulnerable than Sansa had ever seen her before she barreled into her arms, holding tight, letting out a great sob. Tears pricked at her own eyes as Sansa wrapped her sister in a tight embrace, shushing her and stroking her hair. It lasted no more than a minute when Arya seemed to remember herself and pulled away, drying her eyes.

"Sorry.. I've ruined your dress." Sansa waved a hand.

"That doesn't matter." Arya eyed her.

"You would have been furious about it when we were children." Sansa chuckled dryly. 

"Yes, I'm sure I would have." 

"You just look so much like mother now, I couldn't help but-" she motioned with her hands indicating the hug they had shared. 

"Arya, you're my sister, you don't need to feel bad about… about feeling." she finished. Arya nodded. 

"It's just… difficult, after everything." Sansa knew exactly what she meant. They had recounted their stories to each other some nights, while others they just sat in silence together. She knew of her time with the boy in the forge, Gendry, who had abandoned her, and then a little of her time in Braavos. Sansa in turn had told her some of her own story, but not everything. Neither were ready to divulge the entirety of all that they had suffered. 

"Do you think he loves her?" she asked suddenly. Sansa knew of whom Arya meant, and the answer rushed out of her. 

"No." Arya raised a brown, turning back in the direction the army had left.

"You're awfully sure of that." Sansa licked her lips and turned in the same direction. "I'm sure you've heard the whispers about them, and an alliance by marriage would make sense, don't you think?" Sansa bit her cheek, trying to keep in her anger at the idea. 

"Perhaps." she bit out. 

"It wouldn't matter that she is his Aunt. I'm sure the idea won't put her off, she is a Targaryen after all. I wonder what their children would look like-" 

"Enough!" Sansa snapped. Arya turned slowly towards her again. Sansa was breathing heavily, angry at herself for losing control, for maintaining her cool passivity. She could never keep it up as well around those she cared about most. 

"I've warned you not to lie to me." Sansa shook her head. 

"I haven't-"

"Stop it!" she said in exasperation, "I know about the both of you. I saw Jon leaving your chambers this morning, clothes disheveled, his hair all over the place. I don't need all the training I've had to know what happened between the two of you." 

Sansa looked down.

"Does it bother you?" she finally asked after a few beats of silence.

"Does it matter?" Arya replied.

"Of course it matters." Arya sighed.

"It's… odd." she said, wrinkling her nose. She caught Sansa's eye, surely seeing the worry in her features. "I mean, I know he's our cousin, but he's always been our brother." Sansa shook her head.

"Not to me." Arya nodded. "Yes, not to you." they stared at each other for a moment.

"Do you love him?" she asked finally. Sansa took a shaky breath.

"As much as you love that boy from the forge, I'm sure." she smirked as Arya furrowed her brow.

"I don't love him." she muttered.

"Now who's lying?" Sansa quipped. Arya rolled her eyes and grabbed her sister's arm, hiding her pink cheeks and smirk, she wrapped her own around it.

"Come, lets get warm."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't understand. What song? Jon hates songs." he shook his head. "No, there are a few that he likes. Whether he likes them for their melody, or because they remind him of you, it is hard to tell, but he has his own song now. No bard has sung it before, but they will, in the future." Sansa puzzled at her brother for a moment, before he turned to her again.

Nearly a fortnight had passed since Jon had left. The nights had grown long and the days became so dark, it was almost impossible to tell which was which. There was no way to leave the castle either, the winds were too wild and the snows falling so thick you could barely see five feet in front of you, less without a lantern. The cold was also so biting, a few of the castle inhabitants had lost limbs and some their life from being out too long in such weather. It worried Sansa to no end about what was befalling everyone out fighting.

To pass the time, Sansa took to mending clothes with the other ladies who had stayed behind. Some highborn, most lowborn, some servants even. To Sansa, it did not matter anymore. They were all one, in this together. If they were to die, it would happen the same to all of them, no matter who they had been, who they were married to, or who they were born to. 

It was evening, or what Sam had deemed as evening with the contraption he had made to be able to mark the passing of time, when Sansa was working in her solar, going over ledgers and notes of the running of the castle when Arya barged in, her eyes wide. Sansa stood, thinking of Jon, fear gripping her entirely.

"What is it, what's happened?" Arya shook her head, tears forming. 

"A raven came just now. There have been massive losses, on both sides. The army of the dead has retreated back beyond the wall, but the fighting continues." she moved forward slowly and Sansa stood, coming around the desk, waiting for more information. 

"G-Gendry is dead." her sister whispered before half falling, half throwing herself into Sansa's arms. Sansa gathered her sister to her, eyes tearing at the news, her heart breaking for her sister. 

"Oh Arya, no.." she soothed her for the better part of the night. Arya's face was tear stained, red and swollen from crying. Sansa had Brienne help her to Sansa's bed and the two laid together through the night.

"I never wanted to be a Lady. I never wanted to marry, or have babies. I wanted adventures and to fight." she had said, her first words since her tears had seemed to ease. "I thought of him so much after we parted, I didn't understand why. He was such a stupid bull-headed boy." Sansa smiled sadly at her description. "Then he was here again and I wanted to hate him for leaving, but I couldn't, no matter how much I wanted to." Sansa stroked her sisters hair which was free of the tie she usually kept it up in. It had grown some since being home and had even let Sansa braid it a few times. “I think I loved him.” Her crying renewer itself then, Sansa holding her close. 

She wished to be able to tell Arya something that could soothe her broken heart, but words failed her for once. But she knew even if she did find something to say, nothing she said would bring back the boy from the forge that Arya had fallen for so deeply. Instead, Sansa continued to listen to Arya's stories of Gendry. Their fights, their friendship, their first kiss in the Godswood, and their first time laying together. When Arya finished, she had cried some more before drifting off into a fitful sleep, her hand holding onto Sansa's. She dared not move for the rest of the night, wanting her sister to rest as much as she could. 

 

Days passed, and Arya stuck to Sansa's bed. Some sickness had overcome her that had her dizzy with fever and nausea. Sam had examined her and told her it was a minor sickness coupled with grief from her loss. Sansa's heart ached for her sister, she knew she would be much the same if the raven that had brought back such dark words had had Jon's name instead. Even thinking of reading such a thing had her stomach in knots and a lump in her throat that she would swallow daily to get through her tasks and responsibilities as the Lady of Winterfell. 

One week passed before Arya was out of the bed. Sansa had woken with a start when she realized her sister was no longer laying with her. She dressed quickly and had almost the whole castle looking for her when she was finally found in the forge. Her skin was ice cold, and her lips blue. Sansa was both furious and terrified.

"How could you be so stupid, Arya! What if you had wandered too far and couldn't find you way back? I had to have men tied to ropes to be able to search the grounds outside the castle so they could find their way back inside, and you were out there by yourself in nothing but this old cloak! It's much too small for you!" Arya shivered and stared at Sansa, barely seeing. She was wrapped in so many furs, the fire burning brighter than it had in weeks to make the room warm for her sister. Sam had said she would be alright, but any longer outside, she would have succumbed to something far more serious and permanent. 

"I-I-I j-just w-w-wanted to to to feel h-him again. J-just for a m-m-moment." Sansa understood. She had laid in Jon's room many times and for hours, trying to find comfort in any items he had left behind. It helped, but not much, and not all the time. 

"Please don't do this ever again, Arya. We have finally become sisters, true sisters. If I were to lose you, I wouldn’t…I couldn't." the idea of something happening to any of her family had always torn Sansa apart, but with the way things were now, her worry and fear had grown to such depths, she constantly ached with the thought she may lose someone else she loved so much. 

Arya nodded, shivering still. It was all Sansa could hope for now with the state of her sibling. When she finally was warm enough, and the danger of her becoming sick from the cold had passed, Arya left to visit Bran in his solar.

After he bid her enter when she knocked, she closed the door behind herself. Bran was seated near the window, a book that looked ancient, open in his lap.

"Is Arya alright?" Sansa nodded, pulling a chair to sit closer to him.

"Yes, thank the Gods. I fear for her sanity. She has always been so strong. Perhaps, she has seen so much death that there was bound to be one that broke her." Bran nodded.

"Perhaps." he looked away and Sansa wanted to shake him, a sudden anger and frustration overcoming her. She wanted her brother back, not whoever it was who had returned to her from beyond the wall. This man that could see things beyond comprehension leaving him tired, quiet, and broken, who spoke in riddles and whose eyes turned white when he warged away from his body. 

"I'm sorry I frustrate you sister, but Bran is still here, it's just difficult to bring him out." Sansa shook her head. It never ceased to bother her when he spoke like this, as if he wasn't truly there. "I know it's hard for you to understand, but he loves you and Arya and Jon. When all this is over, it'll be easier for him to come home again, to truly be here. It's for the best for now, believe me." Sansa stared in awe at this person who wore her brother's face, and a flicker of hope burned inside that she may see her little brother again, truly.

"Thank you… for that." she said lamely, ever unsure of how to speak to him now. "I just wanted to let you know how Arya is doing." she prepared to stand before Bran spoke again.

"Jon's song is about to end, and Aemon's will begin soon after." Sansa' furrowed her brow, trying to understand what he was saying. 

"I don't understand. What song? Jon hates songs." he shook his head. "No, there are a few that he likes. Whether he likes them for their melody, or because they remind him of you, it is hard to tell, but he has his own song now. No bard has sung it before, but they will, in the future." Sansa puzzled at her brother for a moment, before he turned to her again.

"Do you know it? How it will be sung?" she asked tentavily. 

"No, but I do know what it will be called, The Song of Ice and Fire."

 

Sansa found herself wandering the corridors of the castle with no particular destination in mind. She had done her rounds as Lady of Winterfell already, had spoken with the ladies and lords on matters for after the war, her mind not entirely there as she had been thinking of Bran's words from the other day, of Jon's song.

She was thinking of what would be sung about him, what they could possibly say about his bravery, his honor, his valor when she heard a soft crying. She stood there a moment, not sure which direction it was coming from. She took a few steps and it became louder. She had entered the part of the castle that had been opened for Daenerys and her people, only a few had stayed in these rooms such as Missandei, Lord Varys, and Tyrion. 

Sansa peaked in through the door of what she guessed had been Daenery's room, Missandei sitting on the bed, holding something close to her as she sobbed quietly. 

"What are you doing?" Sansa felt herself jump out of her skin for a moment as she turned in shock to see Arya behind her. Her hair was loose, but brushed. She was wearing a tunic and leathers. The circles under her eyes were dark still, but she looked more alert than she had in weeks.

"Seven hells, Arya." she breathed, her hand on her rapidly beating heart. "Nothing. I heard someone crying and came to see who." Arya looked beyond Sansa and before she could stop her was knocking on the door and entering the room.

Missandei startled at their entrance and stood up quickly, inclining her head, a pretty garment in her hands.

"My Lady Arya, my Lady Sansa, what can I help you with?" she asked politely, wiping at her cheeks quickly.

"What's happened?" Arya asked in what Sansa thought was her attempt to be comforting, but her tone coming out was way to brash and forceful to be kind. Missandei shook her head.

"Nothing. I just… I passed by the door and came in to-" Arya cut her off.

"Do you know of the Faceless Men of Braavos."

"Arya!" Sansa chastised. Arya held up a hand to quiet her. Missandei looked between the two sisters, confusion and maybe even fear in her expression.

"I- Yes. I have. But what does-"

"I trained with them. I know their secrets, and their… games. Maybe not all of them, but enough." Sansa was beyond confused. Her sister was acting so odd, she feared her mind might be addled permanently from the loss of Gendry and then the cold she had been in for hours. She was about to yank her sister from the room when she spoke again. "I know when people are keeping things to themselves. It's not necessarily a lie, but there are signs one can read when information is being withheld. What do you know that we do not?" Sansa looked to Missendei, her eyes darting around the room then and she became curious. Was she keeping something hidden? Perhaps she had been receiving ravens that no one else knew about and had news of the war. Panic and suspicion began to set in Sansa’s mind.

"I don't know what you-"

"You have information about something important. I know this. Tell me now before I cut it out of you." Sansa reached for her sister to tell her to stop. There would be no need for such drastic measures, but she pulled away, a kind of mania burning in her eyes.

"Please, my Lady, I do not think it is privy for me to tell you-"

"You must. You are before the last Starks of Winterfell and you will tell us of this news now!" Sansa was shocked at the authority in her sister's voice. She reminded her so much of their father in that moment.

Missandei's eyes watered and she looked down, defeated. Sansa knew she was about to tell them whatever is she had been keeping secret then. She moved forward and put an arm on her shoulder.

"Please, have a seat. You will not be punished for keeping whatever it is you have been. I am the Lady of Winterfell, on my honor I will not reveal whatever it may be." she nodded, her head down when she spoke.

"I have not received any secret news through a raven if that is what has you worried, it is something the Queen and I discussed before she left." Sansa nodded, looking up at Arya for a moment who was still staring daggers at the Dragon Queens friend. "She did not believe me when I suggested the possibility, but I know it is true and it has ailed me knowing I let her leave and did not tell anyone that could make her stop. It is her most dearest, deepest, most secret wish and it has come true." Sansa shook her head in confusion.

"What do you mean? What has come true?"

"My Queen is with child, my Lady. Your brother, the father." Sansa looked back to Arya, surprise on her sister's face. Missandei continued to speak, her words seemingly muffled by the noise in Sansa's own head. Bits and pieces made their way through. She spoke of a witch who had cursed Daenery's womb, of a child she miscarried, how she believed she would never have her own children. 

"….since she bled. It must be true." she said imploringly. 

"How long did you say?" Sansa asked

"Three moons." Arya supplied, a faraway look in her eyes, turning to leave. Sansa got up after her. She looked back briefly at Missandei who was staring after them in confusion.

"You were right not to say anything. No one should know of this yet." she nodded.

"Thank you, my lady." Sansa turned, her eyes brimming with tears, her vision cloudy. She did not know where Arya had gone. She checked her chambers, and then went to her own. She sat upon her bed to catch her breath, the words echoing in her mind.

With child, with child. Daenaery's was pregnant with Jon's baby. Jon's child. 

Her arms wrapped around her middle, trying to hold herself together as she wept.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is my first Jonsa fic! I've been on this ship for quite some time and have enjoyed so much art and stories and have always wanted to try my hand at a fic. I'd written a few, but always scrapped them. This idea came to mind thanks to this beautiful artwork [here. Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think by leaving a comment. Thanks!](https://www.deviantart.com/postcardsandroses/art/What-if-I-don-t-want-to-be-your-brother-732654837)


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